


aqua spray paint

by zeitgeistofnow



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, graffiti artist au, yay!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeitgeistofnow/pseuds/zeitgeistofnow
Summary: it's past midnight, and eiffel just wants to get back to his warm apartment, a bed, and sleep. this isn't happening.aka the graffiti artist au no one asked for





	aqua spray paint

Eiffel’s tired- more tired than he needs to be, and he can feel his eyelids droop as he walks down the street. He almost trips over the sidewalk cracks three times, almost walks into the wrong apartment before noticing that the lights were out, and Hera never goes to bed before midnight.

In his dazed stupor, he thinks that the faint hissing he hears from around the corner is a snake that took the wrong train and got lost. He stops, listening to the noise. It has a soft tint to it. _Maybe I’m hallucinating,_ Eiffel reasons, _I knew it was a bad idea to go out with Lovelace last night. And the night before. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired._ He starts walking again.

Once he gets to the alley the hiss was coming from, he looks down at the ground, checking for a snake. Instead he spots a pair of navy blue chucks. New, too. The toe is still bright white. He looks up the person’s leg, toward their face. Eiffel doesn’t know this person, he doesn’t think. They’ve got their hood up, covering their hair, and square glasses that make their eyes look bigger. They’ve got long eyelashes, Eiffel notes.

He’s still not ruling out the possibility that they might be a snake.

They shoot to attention when he turns the corner, ready with a blustering excuse. “Sir! I was just examining this wall that someone seems to have painted earlier? Y’know, how strange that they left before it was finished-”

Eiffel can see the can of aqua spray paint behind his back, and four more at his feet.

“Hey, you’re not a cop,” the guy  says, pulling back his hood. “Who _are_ you?”

Eiffel starts giggling. “You want to know who _I_ am?” he asks between snorts, “I find you spray painting an alleyway and you want to know who I am?”

The guy stares at him. “Why are you out? It’s late-”

Eiffel fields another wave of giggles. “You think no one but you is out past eleven?”

“No, but-”

“You might want to look at bit less conspicuous,” He says, leaning against the wall and pointing at the guy’s… everything.

The guy frantically looks at his clothes, then stops. “What’s wrong with this?”

Eiffel shrugs. “Oh, nothing. You just look like that one graffitist from that movie.”

“How specific.”

“But no, no don’t listen to me. Your leather jacket looks cool as hell.” And it does. It’s shiny and and covered in buttons, and there’s speckles of paint on the edge. “You might want to lose the sweatshirt, though. Kinda makes you look thug-ish.”

“But it’s cold out.” The guy goes and leans against the brick wall.

“You can always just not spray paint walls. Always an option.” Eiffel is going to fall down if he has to stand any longer.

“What’s the fun in that?” The guy grins. “Hey, dude.”

Eiffel lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“If you don’t rat me out, I’ll show you how.”

“How to what?”

The guy stares at him. “Damn, you’re dumber than you look.”

“Thanks. It’s a skill.”

“I’ll teach you how to use this stuff,” he says, over enunciating and shaking the teal spray bottle.

“No thanks. I’ve gone this long without becoming a criminal. Don’t want to break my streak, you know?”

The guys nods in understanding. “You’re chicken.”

“What? No!”

The guy shrugs. “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

Eiffel thinks he’s being baited, but he’s too tired to know anything for sure. “Fine.” he picks up a can of gray paint. “How do I-”

“You’re holding it wrong.” The guy grabs Eiffel’s wrist and moves his ring and pointer fingers so that he’s holding the can more securely, then picks up his own. “Like this.” he holds the can close to the wall and draws a thin, neat line. Eiffel looks helplessly at the paint he’s holding. The closest thing to this he’s done is draw on his old locker with Sharpie. “Dude, come on,” the guys says, gesturing at the wall.

Eiffel squints his eyes closed at presses the knob at the top, hearing the hiss, and then a laugh. It’s a short laugh, more like a bark.

“Nice try, Mister…”

“Eiffel,” Eiffel says automatically, then bites his tongue. “ _Shit.”_

“Eiffel. Like the tower.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Eiffel, you’ve just made a bit of a mess out of this wall.”

Eiffel looks at the wall. “Well, it’s gray now. A nice… background?”

The guy shrugs. “You could look at it that way.” He steps closer to Eiffel and grabs his shoulder. “You have to be closer to the wall,” Eiffel takes a step forwards, “And smoother lines. Don’t stop halfway through a line. It’ll drip.”

Eiffel tried again, this time with red.

“Almost. Try again.”

Again, with orange.

“That was good. Draw a circle.”

The circle is yellow- well, gold. The guy doesn’t have yellow.

“Nice.” The guy grins at Eiffel. “You’re a _natural,_ Eiffel.”

Eiffel rolls his eyes.

“Now, you think about what you actually want to write.”

Eiffel groans. “ _Actual content?_ What?”

“Yeah, and be quick about it, you never know when-”

Someone walks around the corner.

“-When _that’s_ going to happen. Shit.”

The guy that walks around the corner is tall, dark, and, if you stretch the meaning of the word, handsome. He’s wearing a dark gray coat- maybe black. Maybe light gray. Hell, it could be hot pink and Eiffel wouldn’t bet a dollar on his own noticing. It reaches his knees and looks stately.

The guy breathes a sigh of relief. “Kepler! You don’t know _how_ glad I am that it’s you and not, I don’t know, a cop or something. Honestly, you’re like my savior. I should make a statue of you and-”

“I told you not to let me _see_ you, Jacobi,” Kepler says, drawing the words out slowly.

Jacobi’s grin slowly melts. “Sir?”

Eiffel shifts to behind Jacobi. Kepler holds up a hand, looking directly at Eiffel, who grins tightly and walks back into Kepler’s field of vision.

“And who are you.” It’s not really a question.

“Douglas Eiffel. I live…” Eiffel can barely remember where he lives. “Somewhere with a bed.”

Kepler laughs. Jacobi grins too widely. Not like before, when he was showing Eiffel how to paint. “Well, it’s too bad you’re not going home for a little while.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jacobi grimaces. “Kepler, please-”

“I told you not to let me see you while you go out, and what happens? I turn the corner and there you-”

“I won’t do it again, I-”

“ ‘Again’ doesn’t matter to me. It matters that it happened this time, and you’re are going to have repercussions.” Kepler takes out his phone and it finally dawns on Eiffel what’s happening.

“Oh god, I can’t go to jail. My friends are going to refuse to come bail-”

“You should have thought of that before you started consorting with criminals.” Kepler dials- _beep boop boop-_ and holds the phone to his ear. “Operator? Yes, there’s a crime in process at the alley on 4th and Simes. Send someone, please.”

Jacobi slumps against the wall. “Sir…”

“Oh, it’s fine. Only a little while.”

“Maxwell’s is asleep by now.”

“As any sane person would be. Only a few hours, then.”

Kepler drops his phone in his pocket and dusts his hands on his coats. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jacobi.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “See you then.”

“And don’t forget we’re going to the opera on Thursday!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Kepler walks away down the sidewalk, whistling ‘Canon in D’ cheerily. Once he’s out of earshot, Eiffel lets out a shaky breath. “Who was _that?_ ”

“My…” Jacobi waves a hand, looking for a word. “Person.”

Eiffel toys with the tip of a spray can. “Your person.”

“Roommate,” Jacobi tries. “Kinda. We met ages ago.”

“Couldn’t you run now?”

“Not much use.” Jacobi shrugs. “Kepler’d turn me in as soon as I got home.”

“But it’s your word against his, then, isn’t it?”

“Except I’ve been caught before, and Kepler’s very…” Jacobi smiles bitterly. “Distinguished.”

Eiffel’s dealt with plenty of ‘distinguished’ people in his life and hated most of them.

They stand there for a few more minutes before the cops come. Well, cop. She’s short, but sturdily built, and looks like she knows what she’s doing.

Jacobi knows her, and she knows Jacobi.

“Damn, Daniel. Again? Really thought I’d turned you away from your life of crime last time.”

“That’s what they all say.” It’s an offhand statement, but Jacobi’s grinning.

“And who’s this?” Minkowski turns to look at Eiffel.

“Eiffel, you friendly neighborhood underpaid department worker who was just trying to go home.” As an afterthought, he adds, “And sleep. Or something.”

Minkowski hums, and for a second Eiffel thinks she might let him go home. Then, “Too bad you got caught up with this guy.”

Eiffel shrugs. “Well, I can’t say it was total loss.”

“Enough small talk, get in the car. You’re both under arrest.” Minkowski swings open the backseat door and Jacobi slides in, scooting to the far side. Eiffel follows him.

It smells like pine air fresheners and faux leather in the car. The seats are shiny, and there’s a buzzing radio clipped to the dashboard.

“Picked up Jacobi and co, coming back to the station,” Minkowski says to the radio.

“Roger that,” the radio says.

Minkowski pulls away from the alley. She doesn’t talk to Jacobi again. He’s staring at the back of her seat. Eiffel presses against the door, trying to make himself as quiet as possible.

“So, I haven’t seen you before, Eiffel,” she says finally. Eiffel detaches himself from the door.

“Must not have been looking in the right places.”

The station isn’t too far away, a dark brick building with a bright yellow-and-blue sign proclaiming it ‘Goddard City Police Department’.

Minkowski escorts the two of them down a hallway, into a light gray room with a bench. “You have the right to remain silent. You’re just going to stay in here until we can get someone to come pick you up.”

Eiffel groans and slumps against the wall. “But Lovelace is still pissed, and Hera won’t leave the house for-”

“Should have thought of that before now.” Minkowski stands in the doorway. “Although I’m beginning to think that thinking ahead isn’t a skill of yours.”

Eiffel yawns. “Nah. It’s overrated.”

“I can see why you like him, Jacobi.” Minkowski closes the door behind her.

“So…” Eiffel says, breaking the silence, “Come here often?”

Jacobi snickers. “Occasionally.” He’s got a smudge of red paint under his left eye. “You’re not bad, Eiffel.”

“Yeah, you either.” Eiffel’s not sure what to say next.

Jacobi pauses. “Hey, can I have your phone?”

“What? Why?”

Jacobi waves a hand. “I’m going to put in my number. Never know when you might need a bad graffitist.”

Eiffel nods, cracking a smile, and hands over his phone, watching as Jacobi types in his number, then hands it back. Eiffel stares at the phone. The edges of his vision waver.

Eiffel walks over and falls back onto the bench, next to Jacobi. “I’m gonna sleep, dude. If that’s okay with you?”

“Fine.”

 

Eiffel’s still tired in the morning when he’s woken up by Lovelace, Minkowski, and a woman he doesn't know. Jacobi’s in the corner, leaning against the wall and telling the three of them what happened.

“And then the Colonel came along and was like, ‘I told you not to let me see you, Jacobi!’ and this guy was like ‘what, no!’ and then-”

“Morning, Lovelace,” Eiffel says. Lovelace looks murderous.

“Eiffel, _what were you thinking_?”

“Uh, Isabelle-”

“Oh, you weren’t thinking, of course. You see a pretty face and all common sense goes out the window.”

“I was-”

“Eiffel.” Minkowski has one hand in her pocket, and the other on Lovelace’s shoulder. “Maybe save the chiding for home," she murmmers. 

Lovelace scowls. “We’re going.” She turns on her heel and walks away. Eiffel looks at Jacobi, who shrugs.

“See you.”

“Yeah, I’d ask you to come over sometime, but I don’t think that’d go over to well with Lovelace.”

Jacobi grins, looking at the door where Lovelace was standing. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Eiffel walks away, following Lovelace, and behind him he hears Jacobi greet the other lady.

_“Maxwell, you would not believe who I just met.”_

**Author's Note:**

> hey!!! so how's it?? do you like it?? tell me if you do! xoxox


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